ME Myself and I. My Soul diaries

haven’t explained how I actually fell victim to this condition. A couple of months before the inevitable day I was diving in Lanzarote with one of my oldest friends who I knew from when I was in the police force.

My passion is to dive. It is the ultimate meditation, being in a safari of mother nature’s riches that most humans do not experience unless they don scuba equipment and jump in to the blue! The silence of the ocean, the magnificence of it’s beauty never failed to take my breath away. It also took me from the material world and so on reflection was my bit of heaven down here, which was precious. Spiritual people do get so homesick as we know of the feelings and oblivion that waits for us when we return to the Crystal Palace, the home of the angels, the Omnipresence and of course our souls.

After my dive trip, I then returned to carry out some mediumship demonstrations which were beautiful and then went away to Florida for five weeks for Christmas and the new year. I was again in heaven as I have an unadulterated obsession with Tinkerbell and Disney World enchanted my soul. I always worked hard and played hard.

The future year promised potentially my first book HEAVEN CALLING to be published. I was in talks to be involved in a world adventure with the Discovery channel, I was excitedly planning my next UK theatre tour, I was also being invited over to Australia to work, planned to revisit Paderborn and work at the army base there, was inundated with magazine work and was feeling on top of the world. I was a little tired as I worked every hour that God brought but I was happy.

As soon as we returned from Florida we drove straight down to Devon as I was to do some work from Lupton House, a community trust where I had been carrying out many readings, workshops and evenings of mediumship. All of my events everywhere were sold out, I was so pleased that as a spiritual ambassador I was keeping my end of the bargain, reaching the masses with my experience, knowledge and wisdom.

As we arrived in Devon on 12 Jan 2012, I was hungry, so we decided to go to a local pub for something to eat. I was in the passenger seat, we were turning left into the entrance of the pub and I saw the car coming towards from behind us brakes screeching. I was desperately trying to release my seat belt and was leaning towards the drivers side awaiting the impact.

BANG!

Little did I know that the impact was to change EVERYTHING I had ever known.

The agonising pain in my lower back was making me gasp for air. My jaw was also curiously locked in agony.

The paramedics got me out, God bless gas and air!

It was a young girl that had hit me, only been driving for a little while. Despite my anger, it was after all an accident, nothing intended. She admitted it was her fault straight away until the reality hit and no doubt a good talk from her father as in the next few days we were going down the line of her not admitting liability. I soon sorted that out!

I was released from hospital in the early hours of the morning. I was told I had severe bruising and soft tissue damage. I felt wrong though, the pain was so agonising.

I remember laying in the cubicle of the hospital, realising that I had seen my own demise prior to this. The morning before, I recalled saying to my ex partner that I kept getting visions of an impact and us being hit in the car.

As I didn’t know when and where, he pointed out that we couldn’t stay in all of the time, so as that was a fair statement we drove to Devon.

When I got back to where we were staying I went straight to sleep, exhaustion couldn’t even begin to describe what I was feeling. I slept through the whole day but I assumed that was the morphine making me sleepy. The following morning I woke up and found to my complete disbelief that I couldn’t move or raise any of my limbs. I cannot even give justice to the word pain. Every nerve, fibre, joint, muscle and bone was screaming out it’s unhappiness. My eyes burned against the sunlight and my ears were so sensitive to sound I felt like birdsong was a hammer smashing into my head.

I ended up being carried to the toilet and left in bed, everyone assuring me it was shock and that I would be ok.

Two days later nothing had changed, if anything it had worsened. I returned to A and E as something was not right. I was completely convinced they had missed something, I thought my neck or back was broken, anything to explain this untold agony and weakness.

I was given higher drug doses including anti depressants that were supposed to be a nerve pain killer and told to return home. So along with all of these new frightening symptoms, I was drugged up to the eye balls. This frightening time then went on for a year where I was examined in every department that was relevant in the local hospitals and at my GP surgery. The GP eventually after a year of feeling like a hypochondriac diagnosed my predicament. Fibromyalgia and Myalgic Encephomyelitus. I was so relieved and awaited the medication that he would give me to end this stupid illness, it was the biggest disappointment of my life when he quite blandly stated that there was no cure.

I had cancelled 90 percent of my work, the book never did get submitted, the magazine work dried up and I was well and truly out of the medium industry loop. My new world was mainly bed, bed and bed. I tried to carry on my working in total denial of my condition, even doing mediumship evenings with sofas being put on the stage, it never occurred to me that I had to stop work, I had bills and a mortgage to pay. But when I collapsed half way though a show one night I realised enough was enough I had to surrender and stop permanently. The fear of this decision ate at me like a relentless hungry demon.

Sitting to do my show!

My ex partner could have just left me, but he decided to choke every penny out of the old credit cards I had locked in a drawer to the tune of thousands. Once completely decimated, including all my bank accounts and even my virgin miles he flitted off of the face of the planet leading to the police searching my homes and adding to my trauma. The bank didn’t care I had had a road accident, they were merciless. The caravan club that I had my mobile home in were also disgusting money orientated thieves who had no empathy or humanity in them.

So along with death, my illness knocking at my door, the debt collector snake was starting to knock.

No one can tell you how devastating it is to watch everything you have worked so hard for be taken away like a flick of a switch. They say the stress of moving, bad health, end of a relationship etc, is damaging, but I had the full house. Having to move every few weeks, homeless, in major debt, a relationship betrayal and break up, impending court case, a loss of my career, chronic illness and no family support. I had no foundation to build on.

So now we are in February 2014, I am holding three dustbin bags in the pouring rain with my two rescue dogs crying my eyes out on my friends front door step.

I just found this excerpt in my soul journal and wanted to share it with you.

‘I feel like a ghost. Existing in a limbo, time having no reality or meaning. Every day drifts into the next. No goals, no home, no energy, no health, no special relationship, nothing to hold onto or have a foundation to spring from. Thank god for my friends here. I am so desperately trying to be positive but it’s so hard. I do hope I look back on this and reflect how shit it was. Every reading and spiritual connection sings of a bright future, a fantastic future. I think I am still grieving my old life. To be so tired and in pain all of the time thwarts any day when I’m feeling positive. Something will always drag me down to a reality that I hate. I have been living out of bags for three months and it’s awful. I hope this is all spiritually lead as I will be shocked to the core if this doesn’t have a happy ending. I feel lonely. Have they been planning this? To change my path and to rest me for the new phase in my life? I get good days of hope but then they drop to hopeless days of despair. It is hard not to hate yourself when so much has crashed and burned around me. Is it karma? It seems that nobody, the doctors, the caravan park, the accident solicitor really cares. I have to move on again next week and stay with someone else. Who knows? Because I really don’t anymore. I try my best to help myself but most days I just want to curl up and pretend this isn’t my life. I just don’t seem to get it right. To have a holiday, to dive again, to not feel any pain or tiredness would be truly magical. I know there are millions of people worse off than me, but we all have our own personal traumas. I just don’t know which way to go anymore. Something has to give soon, surely. As I can’t keep floating along. The days drift by, time is stealing my life away and I’m watching it go, helpless in trying to fill the time. I can only trust and hope that the Universe has it all in hand, because I certainly do not. May God and the angels help me. Without this faith I have nothing but I have to say it has never worn so thin in all of my life.’

It sends shivers down my spine writing this as I can remember being in that space. ‘But where is this magical week you were going to tell us about?’ you ask.

Well like me, I had to wait for it, so you can! Haha

I almost want to savour sharing the turn around with you as if I have a bag of freshly hot donuts holding you back from the indulgence! Don’t get me wrong though, it’s still not the fairy tale end as I had more sufferance to come, but all I can say is, it gave me the right boots to wade through the bog that was yet to come and slow me down.